Sorry for the long wait guys and gals, RL got busy there for a while. However, despite not being able to post anything I was still writing. This means that besides this chapter I have two more to post next week.

I hope y'all enjoy!

Chapter 12:

Mirage paced the length of the roof still in high dungeon about how he had been treated. Behind him, looking more and more miserable with his every turn, stood his penitent suitors. Mirage knew that they had not known what they were unleashing upon him, but the snit that had grown during the morning would not be quelled.

Finally, he could take it no more and he stomped over to Hound and Trailbreaker. He stood there arms folded and still they did not get the picture. Huffing in exasperation the noble reached down, snagged their arms and pulled them around himself. What he wanted finally clicked in their metas and they moved to surround him in a hug. To Mirage, who was taller than Hound and shorter than Trailbreaker, whose massive black arms engulfed them both, this was the most perfect place to be. As the perfect warmth and comfort sunk in Mirage felt all his anger just melt away. He became so absorbed in the embrace that the air raid sirens could have gone off and he never would have noticed.

However, it eventually had to end. Mirage knew they needed to talk. There were… things, that he was realizing he could no longer live without. Those things had names. And were currently hugging him and whispering their spark-felt apologies for his humiliation. The blue and white pulled back reluctantly and cupped the side of his loves' helms.

"I forgive you. I would like to know why you got my brethren in Ops involved in our courting though." He said firmly. He was still a bit irritated despite it all.

Hound had the grace to blush. "We ah,… we thought that as your unit and department that they might like to help. We were not expecting them to be so… enthusiastic or creative."

Mirage thumped his helm down against conveniently near black armor. "Ops mecha have a particularly peculiar sense of humor, as you well saw, and they delight in tormenting those members who choose to engage in open relationships. By inviting them to help you have sealed my fate as a permanently invisible, hunted mech. Thank you… so much."

"Sorry."

There were servos stroking down his dorsal column which were very soothing and he sighed. "There is nothing for it now. I will simply have to find an alternative place to recharge until such time as they find someone else to target."

Mirage glanced over Trailbreaker's shoulder at the picnic laid out on the rooftop. "I believe I am hungry now and we shall eat and speak of this no more. Energon spilt cannot be picked again."

Trailbreaker traded an uneasy look with Hound, but they both sat and tried to at least enjoy the failed date as much as they could. It was very silent at first, until Mirage got tired of the fragile handling.

"I told you I forgave you. I will have to make some adjustments, sure, but those changes would have come soon of their own accord. My people are not stupid, they would have figured it out eventually, if they had not already. I was starting to get some sly looks as far back as a decacycle ago."

That finally made them relax and a proper conversation began about the skyline, the air currents, the distant wastelands they could see, the status of life on the base, the burgeoning romances of their peers. Everything except the one topic that Mirage needed to broach. As the last goodies were consumed the blue and white finally reached the zenith of his courage.

"I… I would like to cease our courtship."

Trailbreaker and Hound dropped the storage containers they had begun to clean away and looked at him with shocked devastation. He swiftly held up his servos to stop the coolant tears brimming over their optics. "I did not mean that the way it came out."

"Well then what did you mean?" replied an angry, hurt Hound. Trailbreaker was already starting to pull within himself to protect his spark from the horrible ache settling in. The green scout touched his partner's arm in comfort. "If that was some sort of noble's joke it wasn't funny!"

Mirage hurried to explain. "NO! I… I have come a realization in recent orns. I always dreamed as a youngling of having this amazing, traditional courtship. How my courtier would sweep me off my peds with lavish gifts and noble gestures, all the while I would play hard to acquire and react with pretended coolness. In my meta it was always the pinnacle of romance and I longed for it. Now,… in reality, I find it highlighting my loneliness, amplifying my longing beyond measure, and ensuring that I am always aware of the holes in my spark. I… I can take it no longer. Please… Please… grant me my request. Would that the two of you love me as I have come to love you, I would offer you a bond."

Hound gasped in joy and might have replied, but Mirage heard nothing, for Trailbreaker had leaned forward and seized the noble's lipplates with his own. It was warm, soft and firm at the same time, a delightful tease, and it made Mirage's spark pound. The massive black mech released his dazed captive and looked deeply into those pale golden optics.

"Yes."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Jazz stealthed down the hallway, a big sack thrown over his shoulder gimbal. What he was about to do was embarrassing enough without anyone else witnessing it. Unfortunately, there was at least one witness. Red Alert. The Security Director had swiftly become Prowl's friend after transferring in, and moving forward with courtship plans without apprising the paranoid mech would have Jazz seeing the inside of a brig cell for the foreseeable future. Sure, Red Alert would list him as a security risk on the official paperwork of course, but he would know that it was not the true reason. To prevent this Jazz had contacted Red, explained himself, his feelings and intentions, and then begged for help. So now, he was sneaking down a deserted corridor, carrying a sack, and humming self-written theme music.

He snuck into the senior officers' wing and proceeded to his destination. Jazz reminded himself that he loved this mech and that the embarrassment was merely fear of failure. Failure to successfully complete the mission, failure to capture the attention of the mech he desired, and failure to acquire said mech's spark in exchange for his own.

The door approached.

Ordinarily hacking such a door would be a piece of oil pie, but since Red Alert took the throne of Security Chief just getting to the locks was nigh impossible… for now. Ops was preparing a dark-cycle run to test the security system and improve the efforts of both departments for some point in the future. As it stood now, Jazz, Blackshot, and perhaps another two or three could reasonably bypass Red's increased protection on officer doors, much to the Security Director's irritation.

This time however, Jazz was not in the mood to test himself against the white and red mech and simply waited, ped tapping, for Red Alert to override the door. A tiny click and a whispered "good luck" in his comm signaled that it was done.

Jazz entered.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Jazz stood in the cool, silent darkness of Prowl's entryway and listened. He knew that Smokescreen had been seen exiting the suite, but Bluestreak had been left to finish his nap. The twins were scheduled to come by in a joor and a half when Bluestreak woke up. That time period should be more than enough for Jazz to finish his plan and then hide from the sparkling's sitters. Jazz also did not want to frighten the delicate young Praxian with a stranger in his home. Thus he was standing still until he could determine if the bitlet had been roused by his entry.

Nothing. The silence was undisturbed.

Using his best stealth programs to silence his systems, Jazz maneuvered through the sparsely appointed apartment. Reaching his destination he unpacked his subspace. Crystal powder, seasoned rust, tempered acid, energon base, and other assorted ingredients piled upon the table in semi-neat rows until the last had been brought forth and Jazz could withdraw the recipes.

The femmes had been very explicit with their instructions for this step of acceptance. Jazz had to prepare a full three course meal comprised entirely of Prowl's favorite dishes and not get caught doing so. If Prowl was pleased Jazz would be invited to partake with the Praxian and the official courtship would begin. If Jazz was successful he would be able to take a more active role in the courtship rather than just enticement.

He searched the kitchenette for some mixing bowls and found it well appointed. Pulling out what he needed he set to preparing the base form of the dish he was making. Jazz knew that favorite dishes were expected for this overture, but thanks to war rationing he had little more than hints as to the Praxian's culinary preferences. The few times Jazz had witnessed Prowl enjoying a non-ration treat it had been on the spicy or acidic side. Therefore, Jazz had chosen an Altihexian main course with a better crystal salad recipe he found in a rescued Praxian cookbook, an appetizer of cream of copper soup with crispy, tangy borite chips, and oil cake with thermite whipped topping.

The whole meal was far less sweet than Jazz preferred and despite desiring Prowl's invitation he was not looking forward to such an acidic meal. Perhaps he would use some of his ops upgrades to get around it, hmmm, yeah that sounded like a wonderful idea. As Jazz contemplated the possible near future he began to hum softly, and for this reason he did not hear tiny peds sneaking up on him.

"Whacha doin'?"

Jazz levitated a full chassis length above the ground. He whipped about and faced the little Praxian who was no longer napping. Jazz's spark pounded in its crystal and he pressed a servo over it to calm himself down.

"Ah'm makin' dinner fo' Prowler."

Bluestreak cocked his helm curiously. "Why?"

Jazz knelt down to the youngling's level. "Bcuz Prowler's mah friend n' he needs someone tah take care o' him."

Bluestreak frowned adorably as he considered the wingless mech's answer, then he beamed. "That's good cuz my brother needs someone besides me an' Smokey to love him."

The Polyhexian flustered at being caught out so easily by a youngling, but fortunately his glossa-tied state came to his rescue as Bluestreak sidled closer. "My friends are supposed to come get me soon, but can I help until then?"

Jazz fuzzed his servo over Bluestreak's helm. "Sure bitlet!"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

By the time Sunstreaker and Sideswipe came for Bluestreak the kitchenette looked like a warzone and both mech and mechling were hardly recognizable. Bits of energon were glopped and smeared across their frames and powdered additives made them look like multicolored sparkling art projects. Sideswipe dropped to the floor, rolling with laughter, and Sunstreaker snickered softly.

"Prowl's going to kill you." The gold twin stated cheerfully.

Jazz just glared at the twins and finished touching up the last parts of the, somehow, perfectly prepared meal. He placed the main course and the dessert in the chemical reduction chamber and turned to them with servos on his hip gimbals.

"Ya c'n stop laughin' n' start helpin'!"

Sunstreaker snorted in amusement and whisked Bluestreak up into the air. "I'll take care of the sprocket." he rumbled.

Bluestreak shrieked with laughter as Sunstreaker turned to leave, youngling held out on outstretched arms to prevent transference of the various sticky substances to gleaming gold plating.

Sideswipe rolled his optics and picked himself up off the floor. "Well, since Sunshine…"

"Don't call me that!" echoed from across the suite.

Sideswipe beamed. "Since Sunbeam took the easy job, I suppose I could help you with this mess."

Jazz folded his arms. "Thank ya so much fo' ya generosity." He said sarcastically.

Sideswipe bowed theatrically. "You are most welcome honored sir."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Cliffjumper took the news of the seekerling remarkably well, suspiciously so. The other minibot's hatred for anyone associated even remotely connected with the Decepticons; even the Autobots' own Ops Department was regarded with paranoid suspicion. Something about Sunstorm being a sparkling seemed to make him, not exempt, but at least regarded more favorably.

Bumblebee felt secure enough in his bitlet's safety with his roommate that he did not feel worried to leave them alone while he used the washracks. Bumblebee contemplated the remainder of his orn and what he had to accomplish. He needed to track down Thorn and discuss their plan of attack. Bumblebee knew he was treating this like a mission, but where his sire was concerned, any political manipulations had to be as precise as the best of infiltrations.

Bumblebee opened the door to his shared quarters silently so as not to disturb the recharging occupants. Cliffjumper was already active, but was sitting with his backplates to the door as he cleaned one of his rifles. Normally, Bumblebee would have walked right in, but he found himself observing his roommate. There was nothing special about seeing Cliff clean a gun, but every so often he would stop and watch the recharging seekerling with a look that the yellow and black assassin had never seen before on the red minibot.

There was some wariness there, as was to be expected from the heavy gunner, but his countenance held mostly pity and concern? The longer Bumblebee observe him the more sure the assassin was of his roommate's sympathy. Such a sentiment was completely unexpected and it piqued Bumblebee's curiosity. Unfortunately, he did not have time to pursue that line of thought. The yellow and black minibot considered his options, checked the Autobot intranet for Cliff's schedule, and moved forward with his plan.

Bumblebee walked up to his roommate's berth, being sure to keep his pedesteps loud enough to be heard by the paranoid mech, and cycled his vocalizer. Cliffjumper frowned up at him questioningly.

"Um, Cliff, I just wanted to thank you for being so understanding about Sunny staying with us."

Cliffjumper squirmed. "He's a bitlet. It ain't fair what the Cons did to him and someone's got to show him there's a better way. Besides, the Cons probably stuffed him full of nasty infiltrator programs and I'm the best choice for watching out for early warning signs of that junk. If I catch it early enough we might even be able to save him from it."

Bumblebee smiled, that was completely like Cliff. "Well, while you're watching him for that, could you do me a favor and keep him company? I have an errand I need to run and he can't come with me to that part of the base."

Cliffjumper would know that was code for 'Ops Territory', but would he accept? The red minibot looked away from the assassin and down at the sleeping sparkling. "Yeah, I… I could do that."

Bumblebee tapped Cliffjumper's shoulder in thanks.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Bumblebee snuck into the communal barracks the minibot royal guard had been provided and began his search for Thorn. The green and yellow captain of the guard had predictably refused individual housing when his mechs could not likewise be afforded accommodation. It was yet again further evidence for Bumblebee's burden of proof that Thorn would make a wonderful king. Unfortunately, this meant that Bumblebee would have to risk the other guards hearing their plans. Fortunately, the guardsmecha housed in this particular room were notoriously loyal to both their captain and their prince.

As Bumblebee suspected his friend's berth was in the farthest corner from the doorway, and he was not alone. No, because that would have made it easy. The lithe minibot decided if he had to reveal himself, then he was going to do it in style. Bumblebee crawled across the ceiling until he was positioned directly over this six officers. From this angle he could see they were playing Praxus-Hold-Em and he grinned, time for some fun. He dropped like a stone and landed on all fours like a felinoid. The cards on the berth flew up and he grabbed them on the bounce. The six royal guards had flown backward from shock and were now pointing their guns at the interloper. Bumblebee ignored the weapons and perused the cards in his servo as he lounged. "Thorn, your set sucks. Arc and Weld totally have you beat and Stonebiter must think he's playing something else, because his cards are completely useless."

He would have continued his critique but he had already achieved the objective of making Thorn smack his own helm and hide his optics. Bumblebee flipped forward in a spin that landed him squarely in Thorn's lap where he curled an arm around his friend's neck and tapped his primary energon lines with a very small assassin's blade. "You sir, need to brush up on your threat detection."

The green minibot rolled his optics. "Yes, because an assassin is going to take the form of my prince just to deactivate a guardsmech."

Bumblebee leaned up, suddenly serious. "No, but they would try it to murder the future king."

Thorn glanced at his subordinates, but they were too loyal to say anything, at the moment anyway.

"My friend, I am sure such elevation is a long time coming."

"It's coming tonight."

"What!" Thorn shrieked. "What do you mean tonight?!"

Bumblebee sighed as he got off his friend's lap and settled in a chair off to the side. "I mean that my sire called me in and told me he plans to announce my imminent ascension posthaste. I managed to convince him to wait until tonight, but that still does not give us much time to get everything set."

"You're telling me."

As both minibots stewed in the enormity of the unfinished plans, one of the other guardsmechs leaned into their line of sight. "Might we not help you, sirs?"

Bumblebee looked over to the five officers. "You would help us thwart my sire's plans and endanger your own livelihoods in the process?"

His doubt was most evident, but the guardsmech answered passionately. "Of course my prince, tis not out of duty that we swore to follow our captain and not out of selfish desire for glory that we willingly obey whatever our prince commands of us. We are your loyal servants out of love and you have merely to command us and it shall be so."

Bumblebee looked at Thorn with a raised optic ridge and the green minibot nodded his agreement.

"Then let's begin."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Shuttlebays in Iacon Base were normally sites of extreme hustle and bustle, but this was just so far beyond expectations. The poor flight technicians had cleared the bay of shuttles and begged command for access to an auxiliary bay after the third wave of minibots descended upon them. It was a good thing too as the entire remaining population of the Underrealm plus their Autobot cousins trickled in to fill the space. Red Alert's security mechs appreared soon after to investigate the reason for the congregation and then disburse the security breach. Unfortunately for the security mechs the minibots had no intention of leaving, citing that they had been summoned to the hanger by their king. A now irate Red commed the errant royalty only to be blockaded by the haughty mech via refusal delivered by an apologetic aide.

Red Alert's next call was to Prime as regulations dictated that stubborn, recalcitrant regents clearly fell under the purview of the chief diplomaqt, ergo, the Prime.

-:- Hello, you have reached the office of the Prime, he is currently buried under a large stack of datapads and cannot take your message. Please leave a message after the beep. -:-

*Beep*

While Red could normally appreciate the humor Prowl had applied to the Prime's answering service, this was a serious response. Thusly did a hot Red Alert reply.

-:- Prime! I don't care if you're buried under a shuttle's worth of datawork, get yourself out and deal with the smelter fragged minibots! Their king is creating holes in my security net! He's probably a Decepticon spy here to disrupt our efficiency so the Cons can attack us easier! It's so very convenient that his cover story lets him have unfettered diplomatic access. *Gasp* He could even get in to see you without contestation! Don't worry Prime, I'll stop the assassin from reaching you! I'll… -:-

*Message limit reached.*

canikostar99: I do believe Hound and TB were thinking that Ops was like Mirage's family, but due to the 'tameness' of their own family life they were not prepared for such an 'enthusiastic' response. Also, once it was in motion it was too late to stop it. Also, the response from Jazz is coming, and it should be quite a pleasing development for the PxJ lovers that have been waiting so very patiently. I do believe from the rate of ideas flowing onto the pages at the moment that the writer's block is thoroughly banished (the threat of pencil-spears definitely helped).

CNightJoy: oh, their meeting is coming, it is going to be sooooo cute.

Starfire201: Yes, yes they did.